


Set In Stone

by Twojay



Category: Magic the Gathering
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 17:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20604563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twojay/pseuds/Twojay
Summary: She claims to be the most powerful master of scrying magic in all Shandalar. We shall see.





	Set In Stone

**Magic: the Gathering**

**Commander Fiction**

"_Set In Stone"_

"Please, no!" The gate-guard stammered. His formerly battle-hardened biceps, now barely able to keep his armoured frame above the loose cobblestone ground. Inches from his twitching features. An elementary simple, enfeeblement curse ensured that.

His compatriot remained pinned to the wall. Held fast by the volley of rock shards I'd hurled in his direction to mark my arrival. If either of them had the ability to call for reinforcements, neither of them was showing the wits to do so.

It was beyond pathetic. And I had precious little time to waste on _doorkeepers_.

Intensifying my gaze, I fixed it upon the grovelling man beneath me. However, his eyes never wavered from the luminescent blue orb of flame I casually held within my open right palm.

It was quite compelling. I'd dedicated so many years of time to honing new methods of extracting _assistance_ from the uncooperative and the unwilling. I had all but forgotten how effective the baser measures of intimidation could still be. Brute force, well in this case, brute magic.

"Anywhere but the face! Anywhere!"

Unbelievable, was the _veteran guardsman_ weeping now? I took the growing opportunity to attempt to pass through without further incident.

"As I've already stated, my time is far too short." I reiterated. Hoping this second time would have more impact. "Will you simpletons, allow me access or not?" The guard upon the ground seemed unwilling to move, let alone answer. However, his still shard pinned, colleague had taken the chance to reflect on the matter.

"Very well." He sneered "It's your skin, not ours." He followed up, by uttering something unintelligible. Presumably some word of command. In response, the huge iron gateway before us groaned. Gradually, the entrance opened. Finally, allowing me access to the inner sanctum.

"Good." It was all the thanks I cared to give. The man's relief was palpable as the flame sphere vanished from view and existence within my clasped fist. But, I think, the curse would remain. Until I was safely within the stone corridors ahead, anyway.

The interspersed series of support columns faded into a cavernous gloom within. His strength would not return. Not until I was out of their view. After all, I had little wish to be stabbed in the back. Such a tactic, I might have utilised in my earlier youth. Yet now, it had long been unnecessary.

With important matters to attend, I strode, purposely and unflinchingly through the gateway. Contemplating just what else she might have, that lay ahead.

Before the afternoon daylight was vanquished by my descent inside, faint whispers caught my senses. Those gate-hounds apparently gossipping to one another.

"Are you sure they were the one she spoke of?" Muttered the first. It was the groveller I believe.

"Has she ever been wrong? Ever?" The second argued. "They match her vision, even if the appearance isn't quite right. They are 'that one', although I'm damned if I know why." It was difficult to comprehend if this exchange, came as a good portent. Or an ill one.

Rationalising, it was pointless to try to ascertain which. I resolved to press onwards.

Without broad daylight, the surrounding atmosphere rapidly became colder and damper. Each wall column was inlaid with an elaborate series of candelabra. These gave about as much illumination as early dusk.

The most captivating feature by far, was the vast array of statues, decorating the corrider's entire length. Their abundance only matched in their variety. Many would, doubtlessly marvel at the exquisite craftsmanship involved in the countless examples of still-life artwork. Yet this was a vanity collection of an altogether more unique sort. That had been made all too clear to me upon a prior occasion.

The corridor extended for hundreds of feet Yet seemed devoid of any further guard. A foolish assumption for anyone to make. The hairs along the back of my neck prickled, instinctively. A reflex to the gut feeling of when one is being watched, by the unseen eyes of unknown assailants. If I had been truly unwelcome, I wouldn't still be walking these floors in solitary silence.

After far too long, the corridor relented it's singular path. Banking itself to the left and ever so slightly downwards. Only a single doorway led off it, which was directly ahead. If the chamber's entrance had any form of door or barrier, it appeared to rarely be closed for any length. The patterns of congealed dust and cobwebs attested to that fact.

Interesting.

Clearly the resident within, had little to fear from any interloper. Yes, from what

I'd heard of her, that would fit perfectly. Especially if her abilities matched the claims bestowed to her. Unwilling to waste more time. I stepped beyond the chamber entrance's threshold, with conviction and without fear.

I should be prepared, I'd taken enough time and effort do so. Yes, possibly too much.

At first, the circular chamber seemed darker than the corridor before it. No candelabra here.

This area's light came from a single skylight set in a ceiling high above. Although barely open now, it could create a spotlight effect. Thus, focusing all attention upon whomever stood, or sat beneath it. Yes, very dramatic.

A barely audible sound, as low as my own breath, broke the silence. I snapped to full readiness. Was it some kind of gas or toxin, being realised? Some other trap?

Then came a brief chuckle from apparently nowhere. Foolishness on my part. She had no need for mundane traps and trickery. She was already a powerful force unto herself. Besides she probably knew already how most of this exchange would play out. Most of it, but not all.

Scrying the currents of the future was an impossibly difficult and confounding art. I should know, from the countless times I'd tried. Tried with scant success. She was rumoured to manage it with the same difficulty a cobra has with bitten prey. Suffice to say, little difficulty at all. It was the sole reason I was here in the first place.

Again, a faint seeping hiss reached it's way into my ears. Even common folk might recognise that sound. The threat of a viper. But I was in the abode of no mere ordinary serpent. For this _snake _spoke.

"I hope you do realise, if I didn't want your presence, then you would be deceased. Not all my sources of protection are so easy to observe." I wasn't able trace the voice's owner at first. Yet I kept my rising frustration in check. Obviously she couldn't be far away. Not far at all.

A faint purring hiss found it's way up to my ears. By accident or design, I still can't be sure. Nevertheless, it enabled me to visually zero in upon it's apparent source.

"Secondly, you are late." An idle boast. Either it was designed to evoke an angered reaction from me. Or just was trying to prove her skill. I saw right through the childish ruse. Even if I was late, there was scant little she could do to prove it to me.

"I doubt that. Besides, I'd advise you take up that matter with your, _gatehounds_." I answered levelly. Not quite sure where my voice should be addressed to.

"Oh, but you certainly are. Yes..."

Some unseen action, opened that singular skylight above.

Then, she allowed her form to be revealed. As if it was her will alone, that would unveil her exact location to me. Such egotistical arrogance. I was very close to becoming impressed.

But I hastily dismissed the notion from my mind.

There she sat. Aloft her personally carved throne, in almost restrained self amusement. Almost.

Damia, Sage of Stone.

Self proclaimed, master sage of all arcane secrets and an oracle scrying adept without peer. That is to say, any potential peers that rose to prominence, mysteriously disappeared.

But those peers hadn't been born with the Spark now had they?

Festooned all about her furnished chamber were any number of trinkets, collectibles and curios. Ironically the first piece to catch my eye, was a jar full of, eyeballs. All of them quite alive and active. Each peered lazily in several varied directions, perhaps in boredom. Then one spied my form. As one, the entire jar fixed it's whole attention at me. As if the hive had just spotted a new predator.

This hadn't escaped Damia's notice. She seemed too keen to show just what purpose they served and gingerly scooped the jar up.

"Ah yes, most exquisite I assure you." She briefly held it in front of her for emphasis.

As soon as the lid was removed, all kinds of panic struck the contents. Like legless ants, trying in vein to flee. She selected a particularly large example. Despite no expressive fleshy socket or brow, the animated eye couldn't have shown utter terror more plainly. It spun helplessly in Damia's grasp. She popped it into her mouth without further ceremony.

There was a quiet, but sickeningly squishy bursting sound.

If I was supposed to show any disgust, I refrained.

"Most delicious. You should try them, they do focus your 'inner eye' most effectively. I assure you of that." It was little stretch to assume she was referring to scrying and detection magic.

She paused savouring the morsel. Whereas I finally let my impatience begin to surface.

"Shall we proceed with business?" I requested with more politeness than should be necessary.

Damia held up an open hand in reply. She wouldn't be rushed, confound her. Then I instantly scolded myself for such a mental lapse. I doubt she was beyond employing the power of mind reading psions. I would need to keep focused and centred. Yes, they would not be a match for me.

"First allow me a question of my own." She requested. "How did you know where to find my sanctuary?" She inquired. Could she really not already know? I smiled inwardly. She'd certainly love this!

"I may have spent a brief stay in Trest..." I needed to say no more.

"That! That, elvish upstart!" Damia, spat in rage." His skills are nothing compared to mine! A simple secrets pilferer and information smuggler! A mere, a mere..." She seemed at a loss for words. I do hope that wasn't eye ichor dripping down my cheek.

So, mentioning Spymaster Edric, had indeed, had the desired effect. Good.

"Still he does manage to accomplish tasks promptly. Doesn't he?" I allowed an eyebrow to raise almost conspiratorially.

"I have all the time we need, impatient one!" She hissed louder than any viper, or indeed gorgon, I'd encountered.

Angrily, Damia clicked her thumb across her first two fingers with a loud sharp snap. Time all around us, save for me and her, simply froze. My instincts presumed straight away a Time Stop spell. That could explain the swiftness of the magic. But no. No, this was different.

It's speed was in it's raw simplicity. An ancient spell few knew existed, let alone could master. With the tiniest parcel of mana, one could, briefly, ignore the laws of time. Time Walk, it could be no other.

Damia's sources were indeed as good as the legends implied. Perhaps, they were even better than was widely known.

"Now-" She continued more calmly. "As time is no longer your most pressing concern. Why don't you ask your question? The question that has made you travel so many thousands of miles? Travelled to me for the answer?" I wouldn't give the gorgon the satisfaction. Not yet.

"I believe you already know. Do you not?" Damia gave a truly wicked smile.

"War." She replied breathily, flashing teeth. Nothing more had to be said. Smiling back, I gave a single nod.

"War." I concurred. Soon our invasion would be set into motion. Only a few more pieces needed to fall into place. Her smiled broadened, she'd been waiting for this moment.

And so, my question came forth.

"Will our armies be victorious against our enemies? Is our triumph now inevitable?"

Damia would reply almost straight away. She was a master oracle. It was all but impossible to catch her unprepared. She readied an answer to every question.

"No, they will not." Damia answered. That's It? In spite of everything? All our preparations and covert research? No?

Before I could express my full outrage she continued. "That is, they will not, without the right commander to lead them." She had me hooked with curiosity. Like the willing guppy fish, I bit.

"Just who might that be?" I challenged. Damia's grin hadn't faded a notch.

"Me." She responded gleefully. "There is no other better. I have studied this particular affair most carefully. Rarely is my interest so piqued. I must congratulate you."

"And now you ask. Will I aid you in your invasion?" She carried on. The question had only just been beginning to form in my mind. Was she a psion too? Quite possibly.

"Pray tell me, little walker." I struggled to stifle a vicious sneer. "What possible motive could you offer to Damia, Great Sage Set in Stone?" I believe I had just the answer all ready and prepared myself. It had been far too long in the making. But it would be worth it.

Gracefully parting my front robes I pulled aloft Damia's _motive_. Presenting it for easy inspection. I wanted there to be no mistake, just what it was I held in my grasp.

It appeared as a humble, symmetrically decorated, metallic disk. Within it's centre, a secondary disk slowly revolved. Countless faint wisps of stray arcane mana could visibly be seen collecting around it. Each sucked towards the artifact's central, Aether infused core. Once there, every fragment slowly faded into oblivion.

A similar object had once been held by a necromancer of no small power. When he'd used the original device, an entire city had fallen in but a moment. My duplicate rivalled the original in power. I had made sure of it, personally.

Damia's expression changed in an instant. I sensed she fought back the urge to spit or roar aloud in utter contempt. Yet her gaze became immediately torn between equal parts disgust and undisguised wonder. All in deliciously perfect ambivalence.

It was entirely unbecoming of a creature of her supposed power and influence. One should have more self discipline. Yet, I allowed myself a second internal smile. So, crafting this object had escaped even her attention. My cautious efforts hadn't been in vein.

"Where did you find the means to replicate, that particular, ancient artifice?" She all but hissed, audibly dripping with venom. As her concentration shifted, I could gradually sense the normal flow of time commence once again. Or, more precisely, we rejoined it.

"I don't believe, even you, possess enough finance to broker for that information." I replied flatly. Indeed, acquiring the means to successfully and covertly reconstruct the device could fill volumes of lore all by itself.

"We shall see." Damia countered almost casually. This hissed accent seemed deliberate. As if to accentuate her doubtful sentiments on that matter.

Idly her hand brushed against a small glass vial kept close against her throne's forward left leg. Within it, resided a small yet perfectly healthy flower. It's petals were purest black. But it palpably glowed, oozing with raw untapped mana. So her resources were expansive indeed. I cared little however.

She could offer the riches of the endless planes for all I cared. Some secrets weren't for sharing. But revealing you had knowledge of them, certainly provided _unique_ leverage. Perfect for more desperate situations such as this.

"It would be a shame to lose this abode." Damia mused, seemingly oblivious in the face of a true doomsday device. "I spent so long cultivating it." She couldn't mean what I was now forced to contemplate. Gorgons could petrify mortals and animals certainly. But whole landscapes? She couldn't mean that? Could she? Her answer deftly broke through anymore thoughts on the matter.

"Very well, little walker. I shall offer the aid you need for victory. But I trust your rewards are as lavish as your threats." It wasn't a question. It didn't need to be. Then she raised a single finger for pause.

"One final question." I waited. Damia's eyes glowed luminous red. It was but a flash, but it didn't escape my attention. Then her smile returned. "Do you trust me?"

"Not for one single instant." It was only once I'd spoken the reply, I realised she had said it with me in perfect sync. Her grin only deepened. "And you wouldn't have it any other way. Would you little walker."

For the first time, I couldn't be sure if that was a question or a statement. I settled for the latter, as it seemed more appropriate. Especially given the one asking.

In a single motion Damia rose with uncanny speed and grace. "Then come little walker. There is still much to re-prepare and re-plan." I couldn't stop from asking one final inquiry. But this time, even I was convinced of the answer.

"And now, is our victory certain?" I finally allowed an internal grin to flourish externally.

"Certain?" Damia challenged. "Your victory, may as well be etched upon stone!" Again, that broad wicked grin. It suited her all too well.

Together, we began to ready our new battle plans. Shandalar was ours for the taking.


End file.
